


And Then There Were... Three?

by dixie_drifter



Series: A Little Slice of the Kingdom [8]
Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Because Craig is Craig, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Ozzie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixie_drifter/pseuds/dixie_drifter
Summary: Craig meets Ozzie.





	And Then There Were... Three?

It was the steady throbbing in his head that woke Craig up. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, pressing his face into his pillow to hide from the morning sun. He had no idea why his curtains were open, but it extremely bad timing. His mouth was dry as cotton, and despite the nausea threatening to force last night’s pizza back up, his stomach was growling.

Knowing he’d feel better with something to eat, Craig forced himself to begin to drag himself out if bed, but it was slow going. He pushed up on his elbows, letting his head hang down, his hair blanketing him on either side, blocking the sun for a few more blissful seconds. Lazily, dragging a hair through the tangled mop of his hair, he turned his head away from the window, and opened his eyes slowly.

He gaze was met immediately by a pair of up close, mismatched feline eyes. Before his mind could process what was happening, his body reacted. He jerked backwards, his compromised reflexes over compensating, and threw himself into sold wood nightstand. His head cracked against the edge, and the throbbing became a screaming siren. Unable to stop his momentum and right himself, Craig fell ass first off the bed, landing with bone jarring thud.

“What the fuck?”

Craig pressed his hand to the back of his head and looked up at the cat that sat in the still warm imprint where his own body had been seconds ago. It was more of a kitten, to be honest. A smooth haired, solid black kitten about the size of an average woman’s work boot. One gold eye, and one blue one. It was that, along with the feeling of the thick rug beneath him, that made him realize he wasn’t in his own house. Last night came back to him quickly.

The bonfire at the beach-- an alibi. The job-- bigger and more lucrative than usual. The celebrations-- never ending tequila courtesy of the crate of top shelf they had grabbed on their way out on top of the cash and jewels. Deran had called Adrian for a ride, much to Adrian’s amusement. An extremely drunk Deran had been freer than usual with his affection, gluing himself to his boyfriend’s side the moment he’d walked through the door, keeping a couple of fingers hooked through Adrian’s belt loops, declaring that Adrian had the “fucking bluest eyes” he had ever seen after staring at him unblinking for quite awhile, setting his teeth into Adrian’s shoulder through his hoodie in a playful and affectionate nip when Adrian had teased him about how his eyes were Deran’s go to when he wanted to wax poetic.

Craig had opted to ride with them, even after Adrian warned him he wasn’t making the detour to Craig’s place. So he’d ended up crashing in their spare bedroom. A room he had thought he had to himself. Not so much, apparently.

“What the fuck?” Craig asked the little furball. “How did you get in here? Did those fuckers go surfing and leave the frigging front door open.”

The kitten offered no answer other than to blink those big, mismatched eyes at him.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, you little asshole. You root me outta bed, and you got nothing, huh?”

“Who the fuck are you talking to, man?”

Craig’s head snapped toward the doorway. Deran stood there looking at him curiously, not unlike the way they would look at each other sometimes regarding Pope. Although, these days Pope had found some sort of peace from whatever tormented him.

“You’ve got a stowaway. The little thing scared the shit outta me, man. You gotta learn to close your doors. It could have some kind of disease or something.”

Craig tried to rock to his feet with a grunt. Deran walked over and offered him a hand, and together they hauled Craig to a semi-steady standing position. Deran scooped the kitten off the bed and cradled her in the crook of his arm like a football. A loud, motor like purr rumbled from its small body.

“Craig meet Ozzie. Ozzie, Craig.”

“What?”

“She’s not a stray, she’s mine and Adrian’s.”

“What?”

“And I’d be willing to bet that, of the two of you, you’re the one with the disease of some kind.”

“Dude,” Craig scoffed at the insult. “Just go back a sec. You guys have a cat? Since when? How-- Why-- Deran-- God, my head hurts.”

Deran took pity on him. He gripped Craig’s shoulder and gave him a little nudge. “Come on, we’re making pancakes. Take a shower, there’s Advil in the medicine cabinet, and then come eat something, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He lifted the kitten for emphasis. It-- SHE-- just kept purring.

With that, Deran, and his cat, left the room. Craig turned toward the bathroom and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I’m gonna need more tequila.”

Fresh from the shower and wearing an old pair of gym shorts and tee that fit so well they had to be his, Craig ambled out of the spare room and towards the kitchen. He felt a thousand times better, and smell of bacon had his mouth watering. Before he turned the corner of the short hallway, he stopped when he caught site of Deran.

His brother was leaning back against the fridge, one hand cupped, obviously holding something, the other popping what looked like blueberries into his mouth. He was smiling, almost shyly, in Adrian’s direction. Deran had trimmed his beard shorter than usual for the cover he had taken up a couple weeks ago to get inside their target, an in and out surveillance run before they finalized their plans. And since then, surprisingly, he had kept it short. Craig wondered if Adrian had had a say in it.

Adrian stepped into the picture just then. He stepped into Deran’s space, stopping just a few inches away and letting himself fall forward, catching his weight on hands braced on either side of Deran’s head. Deran lowered his head, grinning from ear to ear at whatever Adrian was saying to him. Craig marveled at the sight for a second. Even as a kid, Deran had been picky about who got to be in his personal space. Always tense, unless he had been the one to initiate contact. Craig knew that Adrian’s presence had never been unwelcome, but seeing how relaxed Deran was, cornered like he was, was still odd. For years, he had watched them collapse together after surfing, Adrian pressing up against Deran where they sat in the sand or in the back of whatever vehicle Craig was using to haul them around at the time. The way Deran would be surrounded by people bumping into him at a bar, a snarl fixed at the corner of his mouth, then Adrian would appear from thin air, slotting shoulder to shoulder with Deran as if they were magnets.

There had been a while there after Deran had come back from Belize when it had been Adrian who was the unwelcome intrusion. Craig had never gotten the truth about why Deran had gone and who, if anyone, he’d gone with, but Craig would bet, at any given time, all the money in his pocket plus a million dollars it had been Adrian. A lifetime of loving, in its many stages of evolution, had finally come to a head, and they had both gotten burned.

But now, seeing how comfortable Deran was with himself, with his obvious love and adoration of Adrian, Craig knew he’d make anyone who threatened it disappear before it even touched his brother.

Adrian kissed Deran, long and slow, removing one hand from the wall to cup Deran’s face. He pulled back, and leaned in for another when Deran gave him a gentle shove.

“You’re gonna burn the damn things if you don’t pay attention.”

Craig snapped back to reality, feeling a little guilty for perving. He moved around the corner and made for the table. He pulled out a chair and started to sit.

“Something smells good. Morning,” he said to Adrian.

Adrian looked up from where he was pouring batter onto the griddle. “How’s the head?”

“Better after a shower, but still feels like its gonna fall off and roll away.” He dropped his ass down in the seat with a sigh.

“Uh-uh,” Deran grunted, pointing a finger at Craig. “This ain’t Denny’s. Get your ass over here and make the eggs.”

“Fuck off. I’m a guest, you’re not supposed to make me work for my food. Ow!”

Craig watched with a scowl as the blueberry Deran had pinged him with rolled across the floor.

“You’re not a guest, you’re fucking family. Now,” Deran gestured towards the fridge. Adrian took up pancakes and busied himself pouring more.

A timer went off and Deran pulled a small sheet pan of bacon from the oven.

Craig shoved out of the chair, drawn more by the bacon then by the task he’s been given, and started for the fridge pausing when he heard a meow from behind him.

“Well, shit. I thought I had hallucinated that thing.” He bent down, and the kitten came right to him. He scratched her ears, and stroked his fingers down her back over and over again until she flopped onto her back, unable to withstand the pleasure.

“What’d you say her name was again?”

“Ozzie.”

Craig scooped her up and walked to Deran. “You named your girl cat after Ozzy Osbourne?”

Adrian sniggered. “No, he named her after Oscar the Grouch.”

“You mean that muppet thing?”

Craig grinned at Deran and tried to snag a piece of bacon, but was blocked. His brother took the kitten from him and replaced her with a bowl of already beaten eggs.

“Cook those. They already have milk and salt and pepper in them.”

“There’s definitely a story here. Gimme.”

Adrian turned the griddle off and picked the plates of pancakes up, carefully balancing three of them, and moved to set them on the table.

“You feed her, I’ll fill the freeloader in.”

Deran set Ozzie back on the floor and walked to the other side of the room. “Keep it short. No unnecessary details,” he said, pausing only to run his hand down Adrian’s bicep. He ducked into the laundry room, and reached for Ozzie’s breakfast. Ozzie payed him no mind. She had locked in on the runaway blueberry and decided it was a threat to be eliminated. Unfortunately, the small round piece of fruit was harder to corral than most things she had come across, sending her chasing after it in every direction every time it popped out of her paws.

Craig slowly scraped the spatula across the pan, making sure the eggs didn’t get too stiff in one area. Adrian leaned against the counter next to him, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Spill.”

“It really isn’t--”

“I’ll decide that. My brother and boyfriend, who I used to think could barely keep themselves alive, have a tiny kitten who likes to scare the shit out of hungover people. As far as I’m concerned, this is, like, a parallel universe or some shit.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. He pulled himself up on the counter with ease and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“He was closing up the bar one night-- well, more like morning-- and these drunk assholes were messing around in the alley. They were swinging around a bucket, like for sandcastles, ya know, and when Deran hollered at them they dropped it and Ozzie rolled out of it.”

“What kind of sick fucks-- I hope Deran beat their asses.”

Adrian hummed. “He did.”

“Anyway, he brought her home, cleaned her up, named her, and before I knew it she was sleeping in the bed with us instead of being taken to the shelter as I had originally planned.”

That last part had been aimed at Deran, who had set Ozzie’s food bowl down by the back door and had come over to take the now perfectly cooked eggs from Craig to the table.

“I didn’t see you throwing her out into the living room and locking her out.”

Craig and Adrian joined him at the table, and they all began piling food on their plates, drowning it with syrup, and pouring orange juice into glasses.

“Considering you’re usually the last one to go to bed, that would fall on you.”

Craig snorted. “You’re asking too much out of him, man. Only thing he sees is the distance between where he is and how long it will take him to cross it and curl up with you.”

Deran scowled. “You done? Eat your pancakes, asshole.”

Adrian grabbed Deran’s ankles under the table by crossing his own around them. Craig ignored them in favor of trying the pancakes he’d been smelling for ten minutes. They were fluffy, and a perfect golden brown with blueberries cooked until they had burst open.

Craig moaned around his fork. “Omagod. Dis o’ ‘ood.”

Adrian wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Or at least not in my direction.”

Craig swallowed. “Lemon blueberry, right? Goddamn. Y’all eating like this?”

“Don’t get used to it. You’re not coming over all the damn time, so don’t bother trying to weasel your way in.”

“That’s cold, dude,” Craig mumbled around another bite of food. They cleaned their plates fairly quickly, leaving nothing behind. Craig could eat like this all the time, but last time he tried following a recipe he almost gave Renn salmonella. Maybe he squeeze an open invitation from these two while they were full and happy.

Craig turned to Adrian to plead his case when something caught his eye. Ozzie had dumped all her food out on the hardwood floors, and was now sitting in the bowl. He watched as she brought her little paw up to her mouth, licked it, and used it to pick up a single piece of food. She eat one piece at a time exactly like that over and over.

Craig looked to Deran and Adrian, but before he say anything, Adrian put a hand up.

“Yeah, we know.”

“Man, your cat is retarded.”

“Leave her alone,” Deran punched Craig’s shoulder. “You’d be a little different if you got your brains scrambled by some assholes.”

Craig shook his head. His phone chirped in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Renn asking him if he wanted to come with her and the kid to the beach. He shot her a quick “yes,” and stood, collecting his dishes.

“Gotta go, man. Renn wants me to go to the beach with her and the kid.”

Craig rinsed his dishes, and slid them into their proper places in the dishwasher (hey, he wasn’t a complete caveman). He looked back at the table. Adrian swiped some syrup across Deran’s cheek as he stood. He grabbed Deran’s face, and kissed the syrup off. Craig had never really thought his brother would let himself be happy, much less this happy. Living-with-his-boyfriend-and-their-weird-as-shit-cat happy. A family built against all odds by two people who continued to choose each other over and over.

Craig’s phone chirped in his pocket again. He pulled it out, seeing it was another text from Renn. She knew where he was from a drunk text last night, so he gave her a street corner she could pick him up on, eager to meet her halfway.

“See you boys later.”

Deran and Adrian called out in return, but Craig was already to the door. Maybe he could build his own family with someone who kept choosing him as well.


End file.
